BALLAD. (If tars of their money are lavish)

If tars of their money are lavish, I say brother take this wipe from me, 'Tis because we're not muck-worms, nor slavish, Like lubbers who ne'er go to sea:

What's cunning, and such quivication, And them sly manoeuvres to we, To be roguish is no valuation To hearties who plough the salt sea.

As for cheating—light weights, and short measures, And corruption, and bribery, d'ye see, These never embitter the pleasures Of good fellows who plough the salt sea.

You've ashore actions, writs, cesseraries, And a regiment of counsel to fee, Jack knows not of such like vagaries— We never trust lawyers at sea.

'Tis said that with grog and our lasses, Because jolly sailors are free, That money we squander like asses, Which like horses we earn'd when at sea:

But let them say this, that, or tother, In one thing they're forced to agree, Honest hearts find a friend and a brother In each worthy that ploughs the salt sea.